I apologize for taking so long. I was quite busy these following days or week,I know I usually post on fridays but here have this. I'd rather not explain and just let you read. Sorry for any mistakes and things. I shall try to work on the next one to make up for the tine.

I think about the ancient scriptures written about greek gods. I think about how they are all these different made up characters sharing same characteristics yet, being so different from each other. I think about the patterns of their actions that make them differ from each other and about how, if the patterns were changed, re-written in a different format, and sequence, if they would still be the same gods the greeks would worship. I dwell on mankinds need to create something, holy, something inconcquerable, in order to drown in their own devotion and faith, in it. They made gods with these supernatural, super human, abilities that have human thoughts, human ideas, and human personalities, and I realize that they were just stories that helped them fantasize, and learn how to be better, greater, like the gods. They are all just stories, amongst many more, that helped people escape reality, and live beyond it's petty expectations. Yet, even today these debates go on about gods, or god, and they do not even pertain on the idea of the stories, people only argue whether they exsist or not. One cannot say they or he is real, one cannot say that they or he aren't. Because we'll never know, there is no need for that useless knowledge, but I do very much like the exsistant and non-exsistant ideas. Because in the end, they truly do not matter, at least not to me. It never really matters if these stories are real, or made up, because either way they bring an escape, they help me explore the subconcious jungle of my mind. I like the triumphs and falls of these written greek gods, I've fansinated of this impossibility ever since I learned about them, they are just a fantasy.

Sometimes I catch myself wishing for something more, for something less real. I have pondered over the human mind some many times, their behaviour, actions, ideas, thoughts, personality. And I know how they are, how most are, all very, very stupid. They are mean, cruel and sometimes very hateful. That's why I often find myself favouring people long gone dead or unexsistant. Like Martin from Volatire's Candide, most cynical character I have read of, I am often very cynical, but I still hold on to that small, and I do mean small, twig of hope, weak and breakable. My favorite philospher is Friederich Nietchez, who held on to that small hope that one day humans would evolve into these remarkable beings, with unfathomable intellegence and stregnth, and who mused many anarchist ideas. Except, I do not see that view of the future world, I have a feeling that I shall be surrounded by stupidity for the rest of my life. And people will continue to rot along with the leaders that do them all injustice, equally. That's why I let myself float. I do not wish to live here any more. I do not want to live in a world where the only thing exceeding the treacherous land is one's imagination. I can accept reality, but I will continue to live in fantasy. Because I will never settle for less.

Being seventeen, and having a head full of thoughts, a system full of weed, and classes full of stupidity, I often let myself get lost in my repetetive thoughts. And when I leave my head to it's thoughts, and jump back into the world with few grace, I feel like I belong somewhere far from this place.

I look at my teacher sitting on her desk, and sneakily, slide my hand into my left jean pocket to retrieve my phone. I sigh in dissapointment when I note that there is twenty minutes left for this class, and send a text to my friend, claiming my never ending boredom. I smile to myself as I get a reply reminding me of our plans. It feels great to have plans on a friday. I start to grow impatient. My fingers begin to tap on the desk steadily, the tapping then gradually transforms into a fast, hectic drumming that annoys my peers. My right leg starts jiggling and my eyes dance around the classroom. My eyes leap on the clock to my classmates. And I soon find myself analyzing each one of them, all very stupid. I look at the pretty blonde across from me, looking very hot with her pouty little mouth shut, the silence suits her, makes her look seemingly more attractive. Then she opens her mouth towards her friend, and the appeal is gone, replaced by stupid, from all the idiocidy spouting from her mouth, she is very annoying. I look at a dude from across the room, handsome in today's standars, very silent, very ordinary, he seemed like an exceptionally bright kid, that is, but when I saw him out of class one day, one would not believe how fake this guy was, he decieves himself, makes others believe he belongs, he follows the crowd like a lost sheep. He disgusts me. I look at all my calssmates, all stupid, all hypocrites, all fake, unoriginal, mean, repulsive.

I stop my train of thoughts, because I always seem to get a little too angry when I think about how dumb all my classmates are, and before I know it, the bell rings. I spring from my seat and walk fast towards the main doors of the school that promise salvation. I smile to myself as the cool, fresh air hugs my lungs, and as the sun's rays wind themselves around my body. I walk away from the school towards the destination where I planned to meet with my friend. As I near the bustop between our towns, I see his fluffy head of hair up ahead and wave excitedly at him and watch as he beams like a new born baby. I catch up and we arm hug, haven't seen each other in a long time, I am overwhelmed with joy at seeing my best friend.
"Hey Frank!" He beams with much enthusiam.
"Sup Ray?" I reply with a sly smile. We walk our way towards his house to drop off our things and soon enough we are out once again into the fresh day.
"What happens when you ditch detention?" He asks, his curious eyes bright, and brows twisted in genuine worry.
I contemplate about the answer not exactly sure what the consequences actually are and my mouth twists down a physical act caused by my confusion.
"Im...not sure.." I muse, "I think maybe three more detentions or something like that..."
"Fucking sucks man."
"I know, but worth it, 'ts not like I have much to do anyways."
"True that."
"I finished my dope man." I whine as we walk around his town towards the destination we planned to invade.
"I didn't, want some?"
"Nah, some guy's gonna give me free green, it's cool, he's kinda creepy, but he seems cool..." I've no idea why I brought Gerard up, I guess it's the new topic deal.
"That's weird.." He chuckles "What's his name?" He asks as an afterthought.
"Gerard" I reply briskly.

Ray walks infront of me in an excited rush and I chuckle to myself knowing the cause of his excitement, soon enough he is holding the door open open for me, as I enter with the breeze, a gush of wind makes his hair bob comically. I giggle. We walk around the dim lighted record store and venture the world of music. The polished, wooden floorboards of the store give away the years of its bussiness, with scratched corners, scuff marks and crack, splintered wood, we tread the ground gently, and with each step the floor creaks with a cry of fatigue. It's soothing, the age of this store and how it's visible to one if they would just take a simple look. The music playing is very soft and relaxing, most likely a mix tape due to the various artists being played: Led Zepplin, The Pixies, oh! and Smashing Pumpkins. Ray and I smile to each other like smug children and start singing along with the music being played. We seem to have made it to the far back corner of the store, and I am astounded as usual for not noticing, always becoming unaware of where I'm going when I think too much. We start to browse the metal and punk records displayed, some old and used, some eccentric, some new, and most of all, some antique, and now this, this is haven. Ray and I look through the music, talking excitedly, eloquently about it with more zeal than poets. The world outside us is gone, and we get lost in our own words, with chords of soft, sweet, guitar strings, that elope gracefully around the atmosphere we create. Music is pure, it should be. It is a soother, a destroyer, and a creator, it has no need for drugs, no need of mysterious aspects that confuse me like people do. I can understand it, and need it, like the impulse to breath, it keeps me alert and dreaming. It is god, my friend, and my exsistance. Muisic simply is, and it is everything to me.

Our conversation gradually diminishes into silence, and the only thing that is heard is the music, and the sound of the records shuffling, and being flipped. But I am alert, of everything, I am alive like I always am when I am inside this store. I can smell the citrus wood polish, hear the sound of faint birds chirping outside the old walls, I can hear the winds laughing. I can see all the colors of the records illuminated by the dull golden yellow lights, all in different colors in shades, some birght, some dark, some neutral, and some different. I can smell the distinct smell of carboard on the records: fresh, musty, and a slight under smell that resembles those of old books, a smell presistant, yet dull, a smell strong, yet faint. And now as we make our way to the front to buy the records we chose, I hear the sound of the door opening, the wind greedily rushing in, and bells chiming with joy, welcoming the stranger who entered. I did not bother looking, I do not know what I would've done in effect if I knew who the person entering was, I don't even think there were anything I could do besides continuing my way to the counter. As we make it closer to the front, Ray and I make idle chat, idle but important. Any conversation with Ray is worth remembering. We are beat to the register by a tall figure, who I presume just entered the store seeing as his hair was messy due to the wind, and we wait in line for what seems like eight minutes.

I listen halfway in on their conversation -a bad habit of mine- and I exhale in impatience when I find out the stranger is flirting with the girl at the counter. I watch as he brings one of his pale, long, hands to hers and hands her a slip of white, folded paper, as she blushes and gives him a sly smile with a sharp smirk in her eyes. She looked menacing for a bit. Then the figure gives his thanks. and bids his goodbye and turns around. My heart drops, or maybe just stops? I don't know, in suprise or shock maybe, when the figure smiles recognizingly at me. I feel sort of stupid for not realizing the guy was wearing a leather jacket and boots...

"Ditching detention so I see, bad boy. " States Gerard, honestly, I haven't seen much of this guy during the entire school year yet now I just can't seem to stop bumping into him at random times. I give him one of my, I'm sort of creeped out but trying not to show it, smiles and reply with a weak, yeah. I wonder how the hell he knew I was ditching detention, I don't remember ever mentioning to him I had three weeks worth of it. What is he playing at? Is he stalking me? I dismiss those questions as fast as I asked them. I look at Ray, who is looking at Gerard with some sort of unease, and caution shown on his face. Ray looks back at me with curious eyes and I lift my eyebrow at him.
"Uh, this is my friend Ray, eh Ray this is Gerard." I introduce them, sort of unenthusiastically, and Ray gives me a weary look, while Gerard continues to smile.
"Nice to meek a friend of Frank's." Gerard adresses Ray, and Ray snaps himself out of whatever thoughts he was having and coughs, then shakes Gerard's hand from where he was holding it out for him.
"Anyways I have to run, see you aroound, Frank." It seems that he has adopted all those phrases that never cease to chill my bones.Gerard turns to the girl in the counter, blows her a kiss and winks, then as he struts to the door he pats my shoulder, and winks, I start to watch him leave but then snap myself out of whatever trance that I was about to have and stare at Ray.

Once we finish buying our records, Ray and I make out into the evening sun. The wind turns chilly, and the sky starts to darken. We make it four or five blocks away from the store in silence and then-
"That's Gerard?" Ray asks, in daze or shock, I wouldn't know.
"Yup."
"He's always gone to your school?" He asks, cautiously.
"Don't know." I continue to walk ahead, and most certaintly do not stare at my best friend.
"He offered you weed?"
"mhm"

We stay silent for a while, and we near Ray's house he blurts out-
"I've heard very unpleasant things about him.."
That got my attention. I stare at him in curiousity, how had he heard of Gerard when I hadn't even known he exsisted 'till this week, we go to different schools, how does he know?
"Hmm, like what?" I ask.
"Just stuff.."
"Ok." I decide I am going to ignore him. He is always suspicious of everyone, even more than me.
"Look, Frank...just be careful. Some people...some people..." He doesn't finish his sentance.
"Some people what!" I raise my voice in impatience, I wanna know, I wanna hear what he wants to say, I feel anxious.
"Some people aren't right.." He says.
My anxiousness deflates and I reply in a neutral voice.
"Well obviously, they're all assholes anyways.."
"Look, just..keep you're eyes open." He says worridely
I am not even going to begin asking what it's all about, frankly I do not care, people talk, that's it, it doesn't matter if I do not witness it.
"Ok sure.." I smile reassuringly at him. And he slowly smiles back at me.

We make it to his house and I spend the night. Our night is full of pizza, music, movies, video games, and laughter. And as I walk home in the morning I still feel the buzz of happiness for being with my best friend an entire night. I still feel the buzz of adrenaline, that is not caused by drugs. I remember our conversations and the things we laughed about and I smile to myself. But as I get closer to home, I start to think about Gerard, or more about the way he winked at me with a mischieveous eye. And I start to remember what Ray tried to tell me about him. But I keep switching back to the way Gerard's hand sort of slithered it's way into the counter girl's, and to how distressed Ray looked, then back to how Gerard's same hand that touched the girl's landed on my shoulder for some brief seconds. And I merely put away the conversation I 'had' with Ray. Any conversation with Ray is worth remembering but, as I think about the kiss Gerard blew to the girl, this one seems sort of petty.